


(for you i'd) bleed myself dry

by hesitantskeleton



Series: Carry On Drabbles [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Smut, Not Wayward Son Compliant, author doesn't know how to end drabbles, slightly ooc simon snow, tw for vague suicidal thoughts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesitantskeleton/pseuds/hesitantskeleton
Summary: baz has a minor emotional breakdown/existential crisis.or, in which the author is having a Lot of feelings and needs to hear some things and made her comfort characters say what she needs to hear (lmao)
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909474
Kudos: 26





	(for you i'd) bleed myself dry

**Author's Note:**

> seriously there is a tw for existential crisis, bad emotional health, feeling worthless. please don't read this if that makes you upset or if it's a squick bc your emotional health is more important than a vent fic

Baz stares at the ceiling, three a.m. darkness casting shadows across the bedroom. His body feels so tired but his mind is shouting that he’s _unlovable, unlovable, unlovable._ Simon Snow sleeps beside him, so full of life and love and happiness. Baz grits his teeth and rolls to face the window, mind unyielding.  
He’s spent his whole life ignored by his family and with the knowledge that he is a monster. A fucking blood-sucking vampire. And that makes him unnecessary and a waste of space.  
Baz feels as though he takes up space. Takes oxygen from the air. Steals magic from the earth. He shouldn’t be laying here next to a being created from so much love and so much magic. He should be alone in a cave somewhere like he deserves.  
Baz doesn’t feel the heat of tears until they fall upon his pillow. Of course he’s this dramatic, his mind sneers, of course he’s crying because someone has chosen to be with him, rather than feeling grateful.  
He’s so far in his head that he doesn’t register the mattress shifting from next to him. Doesn’t notice the arm that’s wrapped itself around his shaking frame. Doesn’t notice the tickle of air as Simon breathes through his mouth onto his cheek. What he does notice, however, is the soft whispers coming from Simon’s too-close lips.  
  
“Baz, you’re okay. Baz, I love you. Baz, you are beautiful,” Simon murmurs, and a pang in Baz’s chest causes him to sob openly.  
He doesn’t turn to look at Simon, instead screwing his eyes shut. Splatters of whites, greens, purples and blues flicker across the darkness.  
“Baz,” Simon whispers, his voice rough from sleep. “Baz, look at me. C’mon baby, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he babbles almost incoherently. Baz doesn’t respond and continues to sob, but Simon is relentless.  
The Chosen One’s hand cradles Baz’s side and tugs at him until Baz rolls over to face Simon. He feels hot fingers brush against his cheeks, warm lips pressing kisses against his nose, his forehead, his eyelids.  
  
Baz continues to sob while angry tendrils of shame curl through his body. “Simon,” he mutters, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says through his tears, eyes still closed.  
  
“No, don’t be sorry. Babe, you shouldn’t be sorry. What’s wrong?”  
Baz doesn’t respond for a long minute. He tries to slow his breathing, and after the count of at least sixty he opens his eyes.  
Simon is propped up on one arm, the golden light from his bedside lamp cutting shadows across his face. His freckles are darker, now, and seem to have doubled overnight. Baz begins crying again when he realizes that this beautiful freckled boy is in his bed and cares about him so foolishly; as if he doesn’t even care that he’s a vampire.  
  
“Is this because you feel worthless?” Simon asks, his eyes fixed upon Baz’s no-doubt wrecked face. Looking anywhere but Simon, he nods.  
Simon draws a great, big breath and pulls him into a bone crushing hug. At the awkward angle, Baz is squished into his shoulder, but everything smells like Simon and he feels so at home in his arms.  
  
“Baz, it’s okay. You struggling doesn’t mean that you’re not a good person. You might not be what everyone needs, but you’re doing your best and you’re here and you’re living and that’s all that matters. You don’t need to do anything to be worthy of a life and of love. You are the rising sun and you’re the crashing of waves and you’re the rain hitting the pavement. You are love in and of yourself and all you need to do is do whatever you’re capable of.”  
  
Baz finally looks at Simon. “I don’t think I’m capable of love.” He whispers, clinging to Simon’s sweater as if it’s the only thing between him and death.  
  
“Oh, Baz, accepting kindness and loving without question is love. Dancing with me in the living room is love. Patting our cat is love and warming my tea with _some like it hot_ is love. Accepting my proposal was love. Eating three meals a day is love. You are so full of love that I think that your magic is made from love.” Simon seems uncharacteristically wise at three a.m. in the morning, Baz thinks with a huff of laughter. He voices this thought and soon both of them are laughing.  
  
“Tyrannus Baz Snow, I love you with my whole heart. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of when I go to sleep. You are the only thing I have ever cared about. I love you unconditionally and irreparably. I’m begging you to go to sleep, I’ll be here in the morning and I’ll be here every morning for the rest of our lives. Tomorrow we can go to the park you like and drink frilly coffee drinks and eat cherry scones, but now we have to sleep.”  
  
After a long moment, Baz giggles into Simon’s chest. “I love you, Simon Snow. But holy fuck, I regret telling you my first name.”

  
  
  
They fall asleep within each other’s arms, and they continue to fall asleep together every night for the rest of their lives. The next day is bright and the air is light with the smell of rain. They sit next to each other on a cold park bench, both men’s’ hands interlocked.  
And maybe Baz is capable of love. And maybe Baz deserves to love and be loved. And maybe, just maybe, he believes that.

**Author's Note:**

> this is completely unedited and word says that it took me 30 minutes to write so i hope you enjoyed!!:)


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